and he sinks himself deep
by irl-alfed
Summary: he can't touch the bottom... (this is written in all lowercase, because it was 3 am and couldn't be bothered about grammar. ivan has PTSD and his fits are pure anger. alfred has learned how to calm him down, but ivan is worried about how he deals with it. very vague. please excuse my terrible writing.)


he'd wake up at midnight, slamming his feet to the ground and walking heavily with clenched fists to the balcony, where he'd throw the doors open and step out into the cold air. of course alfred would wake up. ivan would be growling. and _yelling._ ivan never, ever yelled unless something was very wrong. he'd be smacking his own forehead. his chest absolutely heaving, gripping the railing so tightly alfred was afraid he was afraid he'd either break his fingers or dent the metal.

ivan was _quite_ broken.

quite broken, mended and re-glued, but broken. and as most people would wake up crying, or shaking, or having a panic attack, or screaming, ivan dealt with his ptsd with fury. pure, unadulterated anger, he'd be _fuming_. sometimes he broke something. sometimes he'd punch the mattress or the floor without relent. sometimes he'd be smacking himself, like he was this time, sometimes he'd be shouting. on rare occasions he'd just grip the covers and _shake_ , noiseless sobs racking his frame he was so filled with rage, and his mind would refuse to calm itself.

but- though all these things did happen, alfred was there to pacify him as best he could.

this particular time, the blonde roused himself from his comfortable bed and onto the balcony, willing himself not to shiver in the night air.

he looked up at his boyfriend and made out, with his terrible vision, his clenched teeth, furrowed brows and scrunched pale skin just above the bridge of his nose. his shoulders were tensed and pushed forward, strong arms thrown down completely straight. He growled hostile russian through his teeth, rocking back and forward slowly, staring out into the quiet darkness.

"ivan," alfred whispered, seeing if his lover could hear him through his thoughts, "baby…"

ivan's head snapped to face alfred. his breathing sped up momentarily and alfred jumped. ivan's calm violet eyes seemed to be seething, and alfred waited until the other's gaze moved back to their snow-covered backyard to cautiously place a hand on ivan's shoulder. the broad man closed his eyes at the touch and alfred quietly sighed a breath he had been holding.

this was a game of patience. patience, keeping himself awake at 2:16 AM, out in the frigid winter night, bare feet numbing against the ridiculously cold cement of the balcony. waiting for ivan to compose himself when it was extremely difficult for him to even think.

alfred finally felt ivan relax the tiniest amount underneath his palm, and he took that as a sign to move in for a hug. his judgement was correct, and he found ivan leaning down as much as he could and digging his nose into the top of alfred's head.

"they hurt me, alfred," ivan rasped, and it sounded weak. alfred could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

"i know, vanya, i know," he replied, rubbing slow circles into ivan's back, "i know it's kinda impossible to think when this happens, but they're not here anymore."

"but they _scarred me,"_ ivan snarled quietly, his fingers digging into the fabric of alfred's sweatshirt, "and they left me having to deal with _this."_

alfred felt his own twinge of anger at that, but decided not to mention it- what ivan needed was to sleep and relax, and ranting was not on option.

"ivy, please," alfred cooed, "don't get too down on yourself about this, come back and sleep an-"

"what else am i to do, alfred?!" ivan suddenly yelled, stepping back from his boyfriend and glaring straight at him. the look was not anger, no, but distress.

"am i to- to avoid thinking about it? to run away from any and all negativity? do you know how _fucking angry i am?_ do you understand?! i can't always relax and ignore what tangent my mind decides to go off on- to push it down further?!" he continued, moving his hands with nearly every word. he saw that alfred looked a bit guilty and his gaze softened.

"fedya, i am sorry," he said, heat still resonating through his tone accidentally, "i-" his voice calmed.

"you help me, fedya, you do, more than anybody ever has, but i-"

"do you wanna talk about it?" alfred interrupted, arms crossing and one hand rubbing a closed eye. he looked very tired. "in the morning, i mean, to get it all out? we could make it a normal thing. chilling you out and then having you vent. or vice versa."

ivan wasn't completely surprised, but he didn't expect that either. of course alfred was willing and eager to help- but so quickly? … it was nice for ivan to think about.

"eh- yes, i think that would be what i need," ivan replied, poking his index fingers together shyly and realizing then just how tired he was.

alfred walked back into their bedroom and beckoned ivan to follow with a swift wave of his hand. the russian walked quietly into their room and shut the balcony doors. he climbed under his covers, hearing alfred let out a loose sigh. he scooted closer to the younger man and wrapped his arms tightly around him, tugging him against his chest and resting his head just above alfred's.

"i am sorry," he whispered, closing his eyes and feeling alfred's arms move up to dig themselves in his silvery-beige hair.

"don't 'pologize…" alfred breathed, " 's fine… but sleep, now, vanya…"

ivan smiled. alfred was _clearly_ very tired.

as he snuggled closer to his boyfriend, ivan thought, _ah, now i've got the relaxing part out of the way_.


End file.
